#Get his ass Simon

[sysig]

Well work on it faster! (Patreon)

[Panel 1] Prismo: ...It wouldn’t have stopped you from trying.

[Panel 2] Prismo: Would it?

[Panel 3] Simon: I don’t know. Maybe.

[Panel 4] Prismo: Simon.

[Panel 5] Prismo: You can’t fool me on this one. Why else would you come to me? To look for her.

[Panel 6] Simon: ... You couldn’t, so I had to.

[Panel 7] Prismo: •sigh• ...Look, you’re right. I should’ve told you.

[Panel 8] Prismo: I’ve just been really...distracted. Simon: Hah.

[Panel 9] Simon: Was years of my no-longer-immortal life not enough for you?

[Panel 10] Prismo: C’mon, man, you know why. Simon: Hmph.

[Panel 12] Simon: You still have to make this right. Prismo: Yeah, I’m working on that.

[thebitchforjemcarstairs]

"Do you remember back at the hotel when you promised that if we lived, you'd get dressed up in a nurse's outfit and give me a sponge bath?" "Actually, I think you misheard," Clary said. "It was Simon who promised you the spong bath." Jace looked involuntarily over at Simon, who smiled at him widely. "As soon as I'm back on my feet, handsome."

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[humhalelujah]

vincent

[planetary]

[austronauts]

u guys………….

[hyperactively-me]

Gurlll. What if another big royal comes up to ghost and says basically ‘how much for ur queen’ … basically wanting to buy her off of ghost ? And he says she’s not for sale but he says “everything has a price”. Maybe he’s been stalking her and tells ghost that he knows her schedule and what she likes.

After that graves chapter I need more DRAMA and more borderline feral and protective ghost

oomph the dramaaa (also don’t mind me making up random ass characters and random ass places for this hahahaahaha)

warnings: time-period typical misogyny, stalking, man being a creep, physical violence

A new trade deal was being signed today, and a big one at that. You had been informed that an entourage of court members from a neighboring kingdom would be staying in Kastron during the duration of the final deal talks and signage. 

The arrival of King Valerian of Malcenite and his high-ranking entourage had been a spectacle you had greeted with the utmost politeness and grace. Simon had stressed the importance of the trade deal for Kastron, and you had been on your best behavior throughout their stay, despite a nagging sense that something was amiss. The trade deal was signed multiple days ago, much to everyone’s relief. Yet, for some odd reason, they’ve shown no signs of packing up to leave, even after already being in Kastron for over a week. 

“It’s been a week, and the trade deal has already been signed, what more do they want from us?” you whisper to Simon with a furrowed brow. “Their presence is starting to become…overbearing.”

He nods in agreement. Simon’s eyes reflect the same unease that gripped you. “I know, love. It’s rather odd…They’ve never given me reason to doubt them.”

“We should find out what Valerian wants, Si. I mean, it’s really bothering me—” 

Simon placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, interrupting your words. “You should get some rest. Let me deal with Valerian, dove.”

Your heart ached with concern, but you knew Simon was right. The weight of your responsibilities of the week had taken its toll, and you were exhausted. 

“Please,” he urges you.

With a reluctant nod, you allow him to take charge of the situation.

“Fine…but let me know if you need me for moral support. You know how I can get during arguments,” you say playfully, giving him a peck on the cheek. 

“I know all too well, love.” 

As you retreat to your chambers, the unease that had settled over the palace refused to dissipate. As you slipped into bed, thoughts of King Valerian’s ominous intentions gnawed at your mind, but you trusted in Simon's abilities to handle the matter.

As Simon shut the doors to your chambers, he signaled for two guards to stand watch at the door. With that, he moved swiftly to find King Valerian.

. . .

Ghost had found Valerian out in the gardens. The moonless sky felt oppressive, the air thick with tension. 

King Ghost faced King Valerian with an air of authority that matched his regal presence. Valerian's calculating eyes bore into Simon's, their unspoken conflict echoing within the stone walls. He wore a cloak of arrogance, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling confidence. 

“King Valerian,” Ghost began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of authority, "we appreciate your visit and the successful trade agreement we've reached. However, I must ask about the purpose of your extended stay in Kastron.”

Valerian's lips curled into a sly smile, his fingers grazing over a bush of flowers. Your favorite flowers. “Your concern is touching, King Ghost. I assure you, my presence is simply a desire to further strengthen the bonds between our kingdoms.”

Simon's gaze remained unwavering, his suspicion growing by the second. “Forgive me, but your continued stay has raised questions among my advisors and my wife. We find it unusual.”

Valerian leaned forward, picking a flower from the bush, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “Very well, King Ghost, I shall be forthright with you. The trade deal, as successful as it was, was not the only reason for my visit. There is something else I desire from Kastron.”

Simon's brow furrowed, his patience wearing thin. “And what might that be?”

Valerian's eyes glittered with a dangerous intent. “Your queen. I have watched her closely during my time here, and I have become enamored with her grace and beauty. Not to mention her fiery personality. It’s not quite fit for a woman, but I can always fix that. I believe she deserves better, far beyond what you can offer.”

Simon feels like his heart has stopped beating. “Excuse me?” he replied with icy resolve, no longer worried about offending Valerian. 

Valerian chuckles darkly, bringing the flower up to his nose. “The queen. How much for her?”  

Simon's fingers curled into fists at his side, his voice firm and resolute. “My wife is not a thing. She is not for sale. How fucking dare you.”

Simon's chest heaved with the effort of restraining his fury, and his clenched fists trembled with the pent-up anger he held within. He approaches Valerian angrily, sizing him up with a deathly glare.

Valerian's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. “Everything has a price, even loyalty.”

“I know her schedule, her preferences,” Valerian continues, emphasizing the flower in his hand. Your favorite. “I've followed her every move. All you need to do is name your price.”

In a flash, Simon unleashed his anger in a single, powerful blow. With a swift and precise motion, he delivered a sucker punch straight to Valerian's face. The blow sent the arrogant man stumbling backward, crashing into the nearby garden wall.

“Get the fuck out of my home. Deal is off. Never fuckin’ show your face here again, disgusting bastard.” 

Valerian, nursing his bruised face, was forcibly escorted back into the palace by Ghost. 

“You know I can do much, much, worse than a single punch. Don’t fuckin’ cross me. Don’t fuckin’ come near my wife and I ever again.”

Ghost showed no mercy, manhandling Valerian in front of the palace guards, who looked on with a mix of shock and confusion. 

Simon shoves Valerian forward harshly into the hands of a couple of guards.

“Take this bastard out of my sight. I want him gone. Now. He’s unwelcome in Kastron.”

. . . 

Inside the palace, Valerian's actions had been made known. Rumors always spread like wildfires throughout the palace staff, and none were willing to lift a finger to help him pack. Simon had made it clear that Valerian was not to set foot in the palace again, and the guards at the gate had orders to keep him out at all costs.

“I do not want the queen to find out about this blatant disrespect from palace rumors. Go about your work.” 

. . .

Simon’s fury began to subside, replaced by a deep concern for you. He knew he needed to speak with you about the incident before the palace gossip reached your ears. 

Simon quickly made his way to your shared private chambers, where you were engrossed in some needlepoint. Knocking softly on the door, he entered to find you hunched over in your sitting chair, your brow furrowed in concentration. You had recently taken an interest in learning needlepoint, taking time to practice simple designs in your spare time. You look up for a moment, but go back to focusing on your work. You do a double take when you notice the worry in his expression. 

“What’s wrong?” you inquire, your voice gentle but tinged with concern. 

Simon sighed deeply and closed the door behind him, anger still coursing through him. “I…I have some…unsettling news, darling.” 

You immediately perk up, setting your needlepoint aside, focusing your attention on Simon.

“Go on,” you say, worry building up in your chest. 

As he recounted his encounter with Valerian, your expression shifted from curiosity to a mix of pure anger and disbelief. You stood up with a start, face pinched with hostility. You grab Simon’s dominant hand, the one he had punched Valerian with, and inspected his knuckles. Bruised. You drop his hand and look at him. 

“How dare he,” your voice trembles with indignation, your eyes blazing with determination. 

Your fingers clenched into fists, mirroring the wrath that had overtaken you. “I will not tolerate this impertinence,” you declare, your voice resolute. “To think that he would even entertain the notion of buying me like, like some piece of property. He will fucking rue the day he ever uttered those words.”

And with that, you swiftly make your way towards the double doors, throwing the doors open with a resounding slam. 

Simon watched in silence as you threw the doors open. Who was he to stop his angry wife? No, he would see this out. He knew that you were not one to be trifled with, especially when it came to matters of respect and dignity.

The palace corridors echoed your footsteps as you strode with purpose, and Simon hurried to catch up to you. He also was not about to let you be alone with Valerian. 

“Darling—”

You didn’t pause or slow down as Simon called after you. Your determination to confront Valerian had taken hold of you, and you were not about to let this insult go unanswered. Simon quickly follows behind you, slightly nervous to see how this would pan out. 

You turn to a palace guard standing alongside a wall. “Where is he?”

“Th– the parlor room, your majesty, he’s about to leave—” 

In a flash, you change directions, marching towards the parlor room where Valerian was currently being kept under guard. As you approached the doors to the parlor room, you could hear the hushed whispers and see the curious glances of the palace attendants. Two guards stood in front of the doors.

“Step aside, please,” you command, hands coming to rest on your hips. 

The guards look at you for a moment, then at Simon standing behind you menacingly. 

“Your majesty, he is dangerous—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

They look at you, then step aside, pushing the door open for you. You practically stomp inside the room, anger rolling off you in waves. Valerian, who had been sitting alone in a corner, looked up with a mixture of surprise and unease as you entered the room. The air grew tense with anticipation as you faced him, your eyes flashing with anger.

“You!” you declared, your voice carrying the weight of authority. “How dare you insult us?”

Simon raises his eyebrows at your forwardness, but chooses to stay silent, crossing his arms over his chest. Valerian eyes Simon wearily before facing you. Despite being confronted by your fury, he couldn't resist the urge to maintain his arrogance. He rose from his seat slowly, deliberately. You don’t back away. 

“Insult you?” he retorted. “Oh, my dear queen, it was merely a business proposition. I thought perhaps you might appreciate the opportunity to upgrade from this provincial life.”

Simon immediately takes a few steps forward, anger seeping back into his bones. He couldn’t bear to see him speak to you in such a way. But, ever steadfast, you persevere. Your fists clenched at his ignorance, and your anger surged anew. Simon watched with growing amusement, knowing that Valerian's arrogance was pushing you to your limit.

“How deluded you must be,” Valerian continued, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “To think Ghost could satisfy your desires with his meager offerings.”

The room seemed to vibrate with tension as you struggled to contain your rage. Your eyes locked onto Valerian’s, and in a flash, you lashed out. Your fist connected with his jaw with a satisfying thud. Nowhere near close to Simon’s force, but it was yours. 

“Yeah, thought a weak woman such as myself wouldn’t retaliate?” 

Valerian's smirk vanished as he held his aching jaw, shock overtaking his features. The room fell into stunned silence, the guards wide-eyed at the unexpected turn of events. Simon suppressed a smirk, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for you, who had defended not only her own honor but also his own. Fuckin’ hell.

You march up to Valerian and grab his ear, yanking him down to your level. “My husband has been nothing but kind to me. Your suggestions of him being incompetent and a monster is far from the truth. He is one of the most loyal and honorable people I know. You’ll never be a third of the man Simon is. And I'm not a piece of meat for you to enjoy, you sick freak.” You let go of his ear. “Stay away from me. Stay away from my husband.” 

And with that, you turn out of the room. Simon stands there, gives Valerian a once over, then turns out of the room in silence. 

Simon turns to a couple of guards. “It’s time for him to leave. Remove him from Kastron.” 

With a bow, the guards turn to forcibly escort Valerian out of Kastron, forever. 

As Simon turned, he caught a glimpse of your gown turn the corner back to your chambers. He follows behind you once more, practically running to catch up to you. 

“Darling, slow down–” he calls out, and you stop in your tracks, turning to face him. “He’s gone now—” 

You stand there, your chest heaving as you fight back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. The adrenaline from your confrontation still courses through your veins. It was a distressing experience, but you know you did what was necessary to protect your honor and your marriage.

Simon reaches you, his concern deepening as he takes in your flushed face and labored breathing. He gently places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with worry. “Dove, are you all right? That was a brave thing you did back there…”

Your lower lip quivers for a brief moment, and you summon every ounce of your strength to hold back the tears threatening to spill. Crying in front of Simon is something you've never done before, and you're uncertain about how he would respond.

Simon notices the struggle within you, his eyes fill with empathy. He gently reaches out, his fingers softly brushing away a stray tear that escapes down your cheek. His touch is warm and reassuring, and he leans in to plant a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I– I’m fine, just frustrated, is all…I couldn’t stand by and let him insult us.” 

Simon’s expression softens as you move to hug him, pressing your wet cheeks into his chest. His strong arms wrap around you, offering comfort. “You're the strongest person I know,” he murmurs into your ear. “I'm so proud to have you as my wife.”

You hold onto Simon tightly, taking comfort in his strength. “I love you,” you whisper, feeling a sense of security in his arms.

. . .

Simon held you close that night, his arms wrapped protectively around you as you both lay in the comfort of your bed. The events of the day had taken an emotional toll on you, and you found solace in his warm embrace.

Pressed against his chest, your head rested on his shoulder, and his fingers traced soothing patterns on your back. In the silence, broken only by the gentle rustle of bedsheets and soft breathing, you felt the weight of the world slowly lifting off your shoulders. The words you'd spoken to Valerian, the confrontation, and the emotional release afterward—all of it seemed like a distant memory now.

Simon’s heartbeat, steady and reassuring, echoed in your ear, lulling you into a peaceful sleep. Wrapped in his arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a partner who would always stand by your side.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[manglechan1204]

Please please please, I need a GazPrice fanfic where they are both awkward dumbasses in love who don’t know how to take their relationship to the next level.

Featuring GhostSoap having their shits together weirdly enough and try to coach them to have better communication and obviously, they’re are horrible at it.

Even if Ghost and Soap are together now, it doesn’t mean it was thank to their communication skills.

[ghostlywhiskey]

single girl dad simon. that's it, that's the thought. either you agree with me or you don't. stay well x

[flysafepapi]

the fact that Simon's steadily gotten less concerned with Daemon's periods of just sitting still and staring at nothing is one of the funniest things they've done with the show so far

you can see the "my guy, you good??" on his face the first time it happens, then the last one we got to see, he was just going "you're not eating, something wrong with the food? wait, no, alys's horrors have got him, nevermind I guess."

[movedtodykedvonte]

We have to make Betty more of a freak now sorry girlie was a little deranged about that man

[mispelled]

Haven't even met them yet and I'm already obsessed

[pepperpixel]

“Can't remember when we walked past the O.R. sign!

(sur-ger-y!)

Can't remember passing out with her hand in mine!

(my-my-mind!!!!)

I remember waking up with my mind repaired.

(A-OK! ^^)

I remember when I realized, she wasn't there...”

Amnesia was her name….. is. so. horrifically. sadly fitting for these two in literally every single line. And I’m gonna NEED ALL OF U GUYS TO GO LISTEN TO IT NOW OK… THIS ISNT A DRILL GO GO GO GO!!!

Anyway… uhh. the fact Betty “blessed” this guy to like. An eternally long lifespan w THIS FUCKED UP OF A MENTAL STATE IS SO SCREWED UP GHGH- Like poor Simon god damn…! u kno he’d rather just keep on not sorting out his baggage and trauma forever too cuz it’d be too complicated… too much… force him to admit things about himself and about BETTY that he really really doesn’t want to… better to just leave it all unexamined.. pack it all into lil boxes so he can just try to ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist… HE GOTTA LIVE FOREVER W IT THO… *ME BANGING ON SIMONS DOOR AT 3 IN THE MORNING*: “SIMON U GOTTA ACCEPT URSELF!!!! LOVE URSELF!!!! ACKNOWLEDGE N ACCEPT EVEN THE “BAD” PARTS OF URSELF!!!! SIMON PLEASE!!!!! SIMON EVEN PPL WHO LOVE YOU AND WHO YOU LOVE CAN HURT YOU!!!! ACKNOWLEDGE IT!!! ACKNOWLEDGE THE HURT AND ACKNOWLEDGE UR FEELINGS!!!! AND URSELF!!!!! SIMON!!!!” anyway… gGHGH YEA, SRRY. SIMON PETRIKOVS MENTAL ILLNESSES MAKE ME FEEL LIKE IM GONNA EXPLODE. ANYWAY HAVE SOME ART. W a bunch of diff versions cuz I’m indecisive!

[toomanywordsnllines]

Soap being giggly when he's happy is a hc very, oh so dear to me.

But he also seems to be the type to giggle when he's about to cry/nervous.

I don't know the image of him talking to Ghost after maybe a more dangerous mission, starting to giggle because Ghost probably said something funny and then him just suddenly dissolving into tears while giggling. Little laughs that turn into a sob. Because he just got hit by the grief of what they do for a leaving and maybe he could've lost Ghost. Simon being hit hard with whiplash by Soap's reaction and feeling very very worried and heartbroken.

[heavenbarnes]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMMsPq6kD/

This is the ONLY way I'd ever get matching tats with someone and I'm currently thinking about Simon/ar doing it and going a tad feral

GOD imagine that in his sleeve or, dare i say, as a neck tattoo 🤪

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

Simon: *being treated with anything less than optimal love, happiness, care, kindness, adoration, protection*

Me: 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

@anonfromtheflight: 🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓